


Sheith Month 2k17

by Tamagoakura (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blindfolds, Light BDSM, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Tamagoakura
Summary: My fills for Sheith month.





	1. Yes, Sir

Shiro’s heart was loud in his own ears, amplified by the quiet of the room and the blindfold restricting his vision. He kneeled naked on the floor, arms tied behind his back, the hard ground making his knees ache. He wondered when the next touch would come, from where, would it be a short flick or a heavy swat? Shiro swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and tried to locate Keith with his ears. He held his breath, hoping it would help him hear the teen’s movements around the space. No luck.

Light as a feather, the end of the riding crop caressed his left thigh. Goose bumps burst out over his skin. The material slid over his flesh, up to his hip, then around to make a leisurely circle against his left buttock. Shiro bit his lip, his hands balling into fists as the cool material teased him.

_Swat!_

Shiro kept his mouth shut, as instructed, but couldn’t help the yelp from rising in his throat when Keith landed a sharp swat to his skin. Another one quickly followed, the strike causing pain to bloom from the area, followed by a tingling heat. The crop pressed against the warm spot, probably a blushed shade of red, and ran in slow, soothing circles.

“Do you want more?” Keith asked, the sound of his voice, husky with lust, making Shiro shiver.

“Yes, Sir,” Shiro said, his voice softly shaking.

He flinched when the crop struck him again, this time against his inner right thigh, nervously close to his balls. Shiro managed to swallow his cry of pain, gritting his teeth in an attempt to obey Keith more thoroughly.

Normally Shiro was in charge. He spent his days commanding Voltron, playing big brother to his fellow paladins, and coaching training sessions. Although he would never admit it to anyone but Keith, it was frustrating being looked up to all the time, people hanging on his word as if it were gospel. Here, blinded and bound, he was able to let it all go and relax.

Another swat landed across his ass and he groaned, his cock twitching. The sharpness of the crop as it struck his skin again made him gasp, his order to remain silent becoming less and less urgent in his mind. Another smack, and another, light flicks that intensified just a little with each impact. By the time Keith decided to allow him a break Shiro was gasping from pain and pleasure, his ass almost numb from the abuse, cock leaking and painfully hard.

“More?” Keith’s voice was hardly a whisper against the shell of his ear, the moist heat of his breath tickling his flesh and the suddenness of his proximity startling him.

Shiro nodded quickly, just two short jerks of his head, “Y-yes, Sir.”

Keith’s hand pressed against his ass and stroked, the flat of his palm and texture of his gloves helping to sooth the persistent ache that the crop caused. Shiro sighed, enjoying the gentleness of the touch. When Keith’s lips pressed against his hair Shiro nearly purred, tilting his head into the softness of the kiss.

Shiro was both disappointed and nervous when Keith pulled away. A tense moment of quiet passed, leaving Shiro once again alone with his own heartbeat.

The crop cut across his ass so hard that Shiro screamed.

“Stay quiet for me,” Keith commanded, gently tapping the stinging line with the crop. It would be swollen and bruised later, that Shiro knew. He was almost giddy to feel the reminder of Keith’s skilled work every time he sat down for the next few days.

When the next hit came, just as hard, Shiro muffled his cry behind clenched teeth. Strike after strike rained down on his ass and thighs, causing explosions of pain and pleasure to erupt across his body. Shiro dug his teeth into his lower lip in a desperate to keep himself even remotely quiet as the sensation built higher and higher, sharp electric bolts straight down to his dick. He shivered harshly, his toes curling, and he sprayed his seed across the floor.

The assault stopped immediately, leaving Shiro sore and floating in a haze of post-release euphoria. He felt like he was as light as air, almost beside his own body. His entire body tingled as Keith kneeled beside him and unfastened the cuffs. Shiro let his aching arms down to support himself as Keith’s hand’s loosed the fabric looped around his eyes.

The room was mercifully dim, the lights set low so he wouldn't be blinded after the cloth was removed. Shiro blinked his eyes open. Keith’s face, gently smiling, filled his blurred vision. The teen wiped a tear from Shiro’s eye with his thumb and slipped it into his mouth.

“You were great,” he praised.

“I’m sorry I came without you,” Shiro said, his voice weak.

Keith ran his fingers gently through Shiro’s sweat-moist hair, “After we clean you up, you can finish me off, alright?”

Shiro grinned at him, “Yes, Sir.”


	2. Scars

Shiro rolled over in his bed, eyes clamped tightly shut as he tried to will himself to ignore the memories. He squirmed in his spot, careful not to disturb Keith. He had been finding it hard to fall asleep unless he was run ragged. Every night was the same thing; telling himself that this time it would be different, crawling into bed with Keith and sharing a kiss before the teen would roll over and flip the light off.

And then the memories would come.

That huge ship that came upon him on Kerberos, so sudden and terrifying. The scratch of Galra claws against his flesh as he was dragged to a cramped cell and dumped unceremoniously inside. The abject horror of waking up to find…

A sharp ache tore through his bicep, making him wince. He pressed his good hand to the place where flesh met technology, gently running his fingertips over the hideous scar. Feeling it made his skin crawl. It made him sick.

He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. The room was nearly black. He didn’t need to think about this. He was in control of his own emotions, right? Shiro turned his mind to Keith. Tried to remember the touch of his raven hair, the faint but almost spicy scent of cologne his skin, the taste of his kiss.

Instead, he could feel the sting of Galra blades digging into his arm as vividly as the day it happened. Shiro squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his palms to his scrunched lids. Why did this always happen at night? The minute the light flicked off, it was like he was back in that horrible place.

With a growl of frustration, Shiro rolled to sitting. He sat there, staring down at his hands.

One human, one hard and cold. Ugly in design, heavy, forced onto him the same way he was forcefully stolen from his home, cut apart and put back together like a plaything, pushed into battle after battle.

Tears slid down his cheeks and fell into his lap before he noticed he was crying. One droplet landed on his human hand, the other on the Galra. He would never feel anything good with that hand again, he thought. Nothing but his aching bicep and the phantom cramps where his fingers and elbow had once been.

“Shiro?”

“Go back to bed, it’s nothing,” Shiro said quietly, still staring down at his hands. His hand. _Their_ hand.

Keith sat up and the sheet slipped down his bare chest, “Can I do anything?”

Shiro shook his head.

Keith sat quietly for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“Should I get you some water?” He finally asked, the question falling flat.

Shiro cast Keith a weak smile and leaned in for a brief kiss, “No, no, I’m just going to…”

He thought about it for a moment. Where was he going to go? Wander around the castle’s halls with only his own mind to accompany him?

Shiro jerked away when he felt a touch, far too close to his marred upper arm.

“Shiro, I-” Keith began, trying to touch him again.

This time Shiro ripped himself away from the offending sensation, goosebumps exploding out over his skin. His voice was sharp and hoarse, rage lancing through the words, “Don’t touch me!”

Shiro stumbled out of bed, far enough away to where Keith could no longer reach him. He pressed his hand against his eyes, willing himself to breathe. When he pulled his hand away his chest tightened at the look of pain on Keith’s face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled,” Shiro muttered.

Keith, naked and tired, his hair a mess, stared up at him in concern, “I shouldn’t have touched-”

Shiro lifted his hand, that cursed Galra hand, and shushed him, “Even so. I’m…”

He turned to grab a pair of pajama pants from their place draped over the back of a chair, “I’m going to take a walk.”

He left before Keith could say more.


End file.
